


A Bloodstained Throne

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Death, Erets dead, God Complex!Dream, Gore, There is a lot of blood, but no one is given names, king dream, other people are mentioned - Freeform, warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27995334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: He had won.
Relationships: No Relationships
Kudos: 8





	A Bloodstained Throne

**Author's Note:**

> Warning! This has graphic descriptions of violence! Be careful! It also has a lot of blood and death.

Cruel laughter, dark and sardonic, rung out like church bells on a crisp morning as it echoed through the dimly lit throne room. 

The gray walls were splashed with crimson paint, the still tacky and sticky liquid starting to dry to a dark vermilion. The stone floor was covered too, although it was mainly the dais that was still dripping copper and scarlet. The lavish room stunk too. It had the pungent odor that so many of the occupants recognized.

It was the scent of death.

The former king, his crown broken open and bleeding, lay at the base of the dais, body limp and eyes empty. They were locked at the ceiling and the sky outside. He had aimed for the sky. There was a gaping wound in his still chest, still weeping the paint that coated the walls. It looked like he had put up quite the fight, from the carmine and crimson that, like said before, painted the throne room. It looked like he had been dragged to the base of the dais too. There was a sticky train from a much larger puddle on the ground. It was like his body had laid there for a while before being moved.

In the throne, in the deceased king’s throne, lounged a man cloaked in red and green, white and black. He wasn’t wearing what he typically did either. He was draped in a unzipped, white and jacket with red splashed- although the other occupants doubted that it had been red before now. It had slid down his shoulders, revealing him to be wearing an emerald green t-shirt. His pants were a pair of black skinny jeans. He was sitting sideways, his legs thrown over the arm of the thrown like it was merely a chair, and one of his hands was almost outstretched, bent at the elbow and his hand flattened with something hanging off of it.

The thing that hung from his hand was golden and glinting, shimmering in the low light. It seemed to emit a glow itself. It made one of the other people in the room let out a snarl of fury, wanting to take it from the brutal murderer. It was a circlet made of gold.

It was the king’s true crown.

The one that wasn’t broken open, that wasn’t dashed on a rock.

The thing that had symbolize royalty for so long.

“You shouldn’t have challenged me. I warned you what I would do.”

The voice, sharpened to a point and full of a deadly familiarity, almost hollow like he hadn’t just murdered a former ally, seemed to almost laugh mockingly at them. He had told them not to oppose him this time. He had told them that he wouldn’t be as kind as he was before. He had told them that if they tried they would be slaughtered.

Their blood would paint the palace walls. It would paint their city and it would paint the world. He would make every liter of blood count.

They would all die.

One by one.

It was all the same to him, after all.

He didn’t care if they feared him. In fact, it would probably be better for him.

He shifted again, this time leaning back further to drape himself over the chair. The man, blonde locks dyed scarlet with blood, looked at the similarly blood drenched crown before smirking and speaking once more.

“After all, you can’t exactly defeat a god.”

He had taken back the crown.

There seemed to be a flare of light, catching in his hair to curl into a halo, the shadows behind him being twisted in to a set of angelic wings spread wide behind him and an arching set of demonic horns that reached to the high heavens. He lifted his head of the crowd, chin held high, as his laughter rung out once more. His eyes, once emerald green, were coal black pits. His smile, once gentle and sweet, was painted with the night sky. Nothing could defeat him now. His mask was set firmly on his face, a pale void. He was not the same person who had excitedly invited them to this world. He wasn’t the same. None of them were. They were enemies now.

He was twisted now.

It was truly terrifying.

And as he glanced at the crown in his hands, he had another idea.

The bloodstained circlet was gracefully raised to be placed in his crimson and golden hair with a slim wrist, a pale hand. The screams slowly dies out as the people quivered with fear at the foot of the throne.

The ones who had opposed him would all die, in time.

For now, however, he enjoyed himself.

He had won.


End file.
